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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28696083">Don't Be Afraid</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonsOfLothal/pseuds/MoonsOfLothal'>MoonsOfLothal</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Din Djarin Needs a Hug, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Jedi, Post-Season 2 (The Mandalorian), Protective Boba Fett, Protective Cara Dune, Soft Boba Fett, Soft Din Djarin, The Mandalorian (TV) Season 2, The Mandalorian (TV) Spoilers, The Mandalorian Darksaber (Star Wars)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 08:15:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,821</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28696083</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonsOfLothal/pseuds/MoonsOfLothal</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>My take on what happens immediately after the doors shut on Luke and Grogu. Bo Katan doesn't go after Din for control of the Darksaber yet. I have a lot of different ideas about what happens after those doors shut, this is just one of them.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>134</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter One</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This first chapter is written from Din's point of view, the second chapter will be written from Boba's.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <em>Don’t be afraid.</em>
</p><p class="p1">That’s what he’d told the kid only a few moments ago. So why was he having such a hard time accepting his own advice?</p><p class="p1">Contrary to the front he put on for the rest of the galaxy, Din Djarin had been afraid his entire life. From the moment he'd watched his parents die during the Clone Wars, he’d never truly felt safe again. He’d dedicated himself to the Mandalorian way of life not because he was grateful that they had rescued him, even though he could never convey the depth of gratitude he felt for the family he’d found with them; no, he’d rushed headlong into training in the Mandalorian way because he never wanted to cower in front of his fear again. They had taught him how to harness that fear, how to use it to his advantage. By choosing the warrior’s path, Din had made sure that his fear would never rule him again.</p><p class="p1">But as he watched Grogu and the Jedi disappear behind the closing doors of the lift, that same fear he’d felt when he was a boy came rushing back to him. He stared at the blinking lights above the doors, their rhythmic beats almost taunting him as they signaled the kid’s departure. <em>His</em> kid.</p><p class="p1">The tears that had started to form along the edges of his eyes earlier threatened to spill over, and he breathed deeply to try to keep that from happening. He felt far too exposed without his helmet on, and Din was a man accustomed to being able to express his emotions privately, whether behind the protective visor of his helmet or in the safety of his ship, away from prying eyes.</p><p class="p1">He closed his eyes momentarily, gathering himself, shoving his emotions deep within himself, to be brought back up at a later time. It was eerily quiet on the bridge of the Imperial light cruiser, and he knew the others were hesitant to break the moment, afraid of what he might do.</p><p class="p1">Din broke the moment for them, reaching down to grab his helmet from the ground and slipping it back over his features without a second thought. He immediately felt more calm, even if it wasn’t by much. Though even the simple act of replacing his helmet on his head felt…different. He’d broken his creed for Grogu. Twice now.</p><p class="p1">He’d do it again in a heartbeat.</p><p class="p1">The kid had taught him more about being a Mandalorian in just a few months than he’d learned in all his years with the Tribe. He didn’t know what to believe anymore. The Creed he’d sworn to when he was a child had seemed to be the right way. But then he’d met Bo Katan and her companions. They’d shown him that there were other ways to be a Mandalorian. He supposed he would have to decide what being a Mandalorian meant to him now. Perhaps he’d decide to follow a new way, though even the mere thought of that sent his thoughts scrambling for purchase against a steep and slippery slope.</p><p class="p1">Thoughts that would have to wait.</p><p class="p1">There was work to be done.</p><p class="p1">He took another deep breath, then turned to face his companions, not surprised to see all four of them staring at him with mixed expressions of shock and concern.</p><p class="p1">“Din-” Cara started, but he held up a hand as he turned to Fennec.</p><p class="p1">“Can you contact Fett, tell him that we need him back here?”</p><p class="p1">Fennec nodded, setting her gun down on the nearby console and pulling the comm unit from her pocket. She spoke in hushed tones to Fett as he turned to the others. “We need to-”</p><p class="p1">His words trailed away as he watched an X-wing slowly fly past the bridge’s viewport before picking up speed. Seconds later, Din watched it settle among the stars and disappear as it jumped into hyperspace.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Grogu.</em>
</p><p class="p1">He took a shuddering breath before trying again, his words coming out much softer than he’d meant them to. “We need to get Gideon ready for transport. Is he awake yet?”</p><p class="p1">“I’m here, Djarin,” Moff Gideon raised his shackled arms from his position in front of the light cruiser’s data center, his voice carefree and unnaturally relaxed. “Thanks to your shock trooper, here.” His head angled toward where Cara stood nearby.</p><p class="p1">“Happy to help,” Cara grinned sarcastically, accepting the mocked praise.</p><p class="p1">“Good,” Din said. “When Fett gets back, we’ll load him up and get him back to Nevarro so Cara can hand him over to the New Republic.”</p><p class="p1">As if saying Fett’s name had summoned him, the <em>Slave 1</em> dropped out of hyperspace in front of the light cruiser, maneuvering itself towards the docking bay in the belly of the ship. Koska watched it land through the monitor, nodding at the others when the ramp began to lower. “He’s in.”</p><p class="p1">“Get him up.” Din said softly. The sooner he got this man out of his line of sight, the better. Cara grabbed him roughly under the arms and hauled him to his feet, shoving him towards the mangled blast doors. The Moff tripped for a moment, then righted himself, walking with sure steps towards the fate that awaited him. Cara glanced at Din as they passed, worry evident in her eyes.</p><p class="p1">He didn’t pay attention to it, knowing that if he let himself feel anything in this moment that he would be incapacitated by his emotions. There wasn’t time for that right now. He stepped past Bo Katan, wary as he did so, to reach for the spear he’d rested against the console, slipping it into its place on his back, cringing slightly as it brushed against the Darksaber now hanging from his belt.</p><p class="p1">Only then did he turn to face Bo Katan, her helmet now off and lying on the communications console in the middle of the bridge. Her features were hard to read, a combination of shock, anger, and turmoil. Confusion. Din wasn’t sure what that meant for him. He considered Bo a friend, even if they had only interacted for a short time. He supposed now, though, it had been more of a bond they shared as Mandalorians, as warriors, that had pushed them together. What would she do, now that he had the Darksaber? A weapon and a legacy he had no intentions of keeping. He’d seen the way her hands had hovered over her blasters when he’d offered the saber to her earlier.</p><p class="p1">Something passed between them, then, something Din couldn’t really explain in words. She straightened, drawing in a deep breath as she walked towards him, stopping just out of his reach. She stared at him for a long moment, as if struggling with something internally. Then she did something entirely unexpected: she bowed. Koska looked to her leader, and immediately did the same. Fennec’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, her hands straying to her gun out of habit.</p><p class="p1">Din took a step back, holding out a hand to them both. “Stop. What are you doing?” His words were low, forceful.</p><p class="p1">Bo Katan straightened once more, as did Koska, both Mandalorians looking to him and his outstretched hand. Bo was the one who spoke. “We are showing you the proper respect you deserve as the rightful ruler of Mandalore.” Her words were gentle, yet he could still hear a hint of bitterness lying just beneath them.</p><p class="p1">“I don’t want this,” he growled, surprised to hear the way his voice had sounded.</p><p class="p1">She nodded, her eyes flicking to the Darksaber on his belt for a moment before returningto his helmet. “I know. But the responsibility is now yours, nevertheless. Until another defeats you in combat, the Darksaber is your burden to bear.”</p><p class="p1">He tensed, preparing himself for a fight, and nodded at her, gesturing to her helmet. “Let’s get this over with, then.”</p><p class="p1">She glanced at her helmet before shaking her head and taking another step toward him. “I will not fight you.” She smiled softly, bitterly. “At least, not yet.”</p><p class="p1">He sighed. “Why not? It’s clear you want the saber; just take it from me.”</p><p class="p1">“No. Not like this,” her voice was full of conviction, her tone commanding and firm. She clasped her hands behind her back, looking to the floor for a moment before returning her attention to Din. “Our people have been divided for too long. All I want is for Mandalore to be united and freed from the Empire. In order to do that, we need someone to rally behind, a new kind of leader. It’s true, I could fight you for possession of the Darksaber, but where would that lead us? Gideon was right in one regard: the saber itself doesn’t matter as much as the story. Do you really think our people would rally behind me if I fought you here and now, after you rightfully won the saber from Gideon? What would I be telling our people?” She scoffed. “I’d be telling them the same thing they’ve heard for generations: that if they want power, they need only to take it. Oh, they would accept me as their leader,” she smiled grimly, “but they wouldn’t trust me, not the way they did before. For me to betray one of our kind moments after they’d won the saber? At the first sign of my weakness, another clan would try to take the Darksaber, and we would be right back where we started.” She shook her head, smiling at Din sadly. “No, you are the one we will rally behind, Din Djarin.”</p><p class="p1">He took the information in stride, betraying nothing of what he was feeling. Underneath the mask, though, his features were a mix of confusion and denial. He understood Bo Katan better now than he ever had before. The lengths to which she was willing to go for her people were admirable. Still, there was something he needed to know. “Why accept me? You said yourself, I belong to a cult of religious zealots that broke away from Mandalore.”</p><p class="p1">“Do you truly still belong to the Watch?” she asked gently, an eyebrow raising, her question sincere.</p><p class="p1">He straightened, considering the question carefully. Looking back over the last few weeks, from his first meeting with Bo Katan to now…”No,” he said, his voice rough. “No, I guess I don’t, do I?” He’d broken his creed, removed his helmet, let others see his face. To do that was to throw away his Mandalorian heritage. And yet, he’d never felt more like a Mandalorian than he did in this moment, and Bo Katan’s actions only proved that. She would never bow to someone she thought unworthy of the burden that came with bearing the Darksaber.</p><p class="p1">She nodded, accepting his answer. “Now you see why I accept you as our ruler.”</p><p class="p1">He nodded in return, still hesitant to accept the fact that this was happening in the first place. Din looked to Fennec, who had been watching the whole display, her gun back in her hand, just in case things took a turn for the worse. “I need to get back to the Moff,” he said, making his way toward the lift, stepping through the carnage the Jedi had left in his wake, Fennec right behind him. He didn’t just need to get to Gideon. He needed to get out of here. Away from them. He needed to think.</p><p class="p1">“Din!” Bo Katan called him, making him turn around. She tipped her chin up. “We will secure the cruiser, take it to our brothers and sisters in preparation for our assault on Mandalore, but we will need you when the time comes.”</p><p class="p1">He contemplated the warrior before him, then simply nodded, his helmet dipping ever so slightly. “You know where to find me.” And then he turned and stepped inside the lift, relief washing through him as the door slid shut between them. Thankfully, Fennec decided not to say a word, leaving him to his own thoughts.</p><p class="p1">Din felt the Darksaber against his leg, closing his eyes as if he could hide from the weapon. He still didn’t want this, would never want this. But Bo Katan had been telling the truth: it was now his burden to bear, whether he’d asked for it or not. Again, he pushed his emotions aside, burying them deep. Once he got Gideon to the New Republic, then he would let himself think, let himself feel and process.</p><p class="p1">The door to the lift opened with a soft noise, and Din opened his eyes, walking back through the corridors that lead to the docking bay, trying his best to avoid looking at the damage they’d wrought when they’d taken the ship.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter Two</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Warning: A character does experience a panic attack in this chapter. </p>
<p>And a reminder that this chapter is written from Boba's point of view.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">Boba stepped to the top of the ramp, his gun held tightly in his hands, just in case. The bodies of stormtroopers and officers littered the docking bay floor, not a single one of them moving, but he had learned long ago never to trust that everyone in the room was dead, even if they looked like it.</p>
<p class="p1">Movement from the doorway that led deeper into the ship’s interior made him move his gun up to his shoulder, his finger already on the trigger, his target positioned firmly in his sights. He only relaxed when he saw Djarin’s marshal friend, Cara, come into view. She had her gun aimed at what Boba assumed was the man in control of this light cruiser. Moff Gideon. He’d heard the man’s name spoken a few times when he had been working for the Empire, but they had never met. Boba would venture to say the man didn’t even know they’d both been employed by the same people. Though, truly, Boba had usually only worked with Vader. His dealings with the Empire had almost always been filtered through the dark lord.</p>
<p class="p1">Boba descended the ramp and heard the Moff chuckle as the two got closer to the <em>Slave 1</em>, the man’s gaze roaming over his armor and helmet. Blood stained the man’s teeth red as he spoke. “Ah, the infamous Boba Fett. We meet at last. I’d heard rumors you were dead,” he said slyly, both eyebrows raising in surprise as Cara stopped him at the base of the ramp.</p>
<p class="p1">“Don’t believe everything you hear,” Boba growled, the menacing tone in his voice clear and strong.</p>
<p class="p1">“Oh, believe me, I don’t,” Gideon said. He smirked. “You know, everyone thought I was dead, too. We have a lot in common.”</p>
<p class="p1">Boba didn’t bother replying, knowing the Moff was only trying to find a way to breach his defenses. He’d met many men like him over the years, and none of them had succeeded yet. Gideon wouldn’t be the first. Instead, he directed his words to Cara. “Where are the others?”</p>
<p class="p1">Cara tilted her head back the way they’d come. “Still on the bridge.”</p>
<p class="p1">“Likely fighting to the death for possession of the Darksaber,” Gideon laughed softly.</p>
<p class="p1">Boba looked to the marshal for an answer, and she readily gave it, her eyes rolling at the Moff’s words. “He thinks Bo Katan will fight Din for the weapon he had when Din defeated him.”</p>
<p class="p1">Boba shrugged, tilting his head to the side. “It’s more likely than you think.” Though he’d not personally met Bo Katan until a few hours ago, he’d heard the stories that came out of the end of the Clone Wars from Mandalore. Her past in the Death Watch, her eagerness to free Mandalore from the remnant of the group that was left after they’d killed her sister, her part in bringing the clone army to Mandalore as a result, and her activities while the Empire had risen to power in the Republic’s place. She was ruthless, the kind of person who was only interested in their own goals. In her case, freeing and ruling Mandalore. Boba was sure she would do anything to achieve those goals, because if he were in her position he’d do the same. In that regard, the two were the same. Even so, he wasn’t worried about Djarin. The man knew how to take care of himself.</p>
<p class="p1">Cara glanced behind her worriedly. “You think I should go back up there?”</p>
<p class="p1">“Is Fennec still with him?”</p>
<p class="p1">“Yeah.”</p>
<p class="p1">“Then they’ll be fine,” he turned and started back up the ramp. “Best get our guest secured before they arrive.” Cara prodded the Moff with her gun and he trudged up the ramp without protest, sitting down in the chair that she gestured toward. A moment later the man was shackled to it, Cara sitting across from him, her gun laid across her legs in a deceptively relaxed way.</p>
<p class="p1">Boba stood at the top of the ramp again, gaze fixed on the doorway as he asked gently, “Did we get the kid?”</p>
<p class="p1">From the corner of his eye, he saw the marshal stiffen, and so he turned toward her immediately, tensing. “Yes,” she said softly, and his shoulders relaxed. Then, even more softly, “And no.”</p>
<p class="p1">“What is that supposed to mean?” he asked, his voice dangerously low.</p>
<p class="p1">Moff Gideon broke the silence before Cara could explain. “Djarin was able to rescue him from my brig quite nicely, but then was unable to keep him safe when my Dark Troopers returned to the ship. Luckily for him, a Jedi came for the Child. Djarin let him go with the Jedi, even removed his helmet to say goodbye, it was all very touching,” he said, his words laced with sarcasm.</p>
<p class="p1">He looked back at Cara immediately. “The kid’s gone?” He could only guess at what Djarin was feeling right now. The two may have only known each other for a few days, but Boba had grown strangely fond of the other Mandalorian. He was already forming a plan to get him away from the others, especially the Moff, when he came back to the ship.</p>
<p class="p1">She only nodded, her expression sad, yet still hopeful.</p>
<p class="p1">“And he…removed his helmet?” Boba asked. Another reason to get Djarin away from everyone. Fewer questions directed at him that way. He’d just broken his one rule, and Boba knew he’d need some time alone to process that. To process all of this.</p>
<p class="p1">She smiled softly. “For the kid, yeah.”</p>
<p class="p1">He turned his attention towards the doorway again, waiting for Djarin and Fennec. He wasn’t entirely sure why, but he felt immense pride in the other bounty hunter’s actions. He grunted. “I’m surprised Tano came back for the kid. Djarin told me she’d wanted nothing to do with taking him.” He was almost sorry he’d missed her. Hearing her name tumble from Djarin’s lips as he’d explained what he and the kid had been doing on Tython had been shocking, to say the least. They’d only met once, back in the Clone Wars, and it hadn’t been under the best circumstances. He’d almost killed her master, at the time, and had been on the run with Aurra Sing. Better that their paths hadn’t crossed again, then.</p>
<p class="p1">“It wasn’t Ahsoka,” Cara said, an awed smile lighting her features as she said it. She looked briefly at Boba before refocusing her attention on the Moff. “If I’m right, based on the stories I’ve heard and the few glimpses I got when I was with the Rebellion, it was Luke Skywalker.”</p>
<p class="p1">Boba heard himself growl out, “Skywalker was here?” as he whipped his head towards the marshal, his mood instantly darkening.</p>
<p class="p1">She seemed taken aback by his tone, confusion wrinkling her eyebrows. “If I’m right.”</p>
<p class="p1">“Let me guess: black clothes, gloved hand, green lightsaber?”</p>
<p class="p1">The wrinkles across her forehead only grew more pronounced. “How’d you know?”</p>
<p class="p1">He gripped his gun tighter as he turned away from Cara and focused his gaze back on the doorway. “Let’s just say it’s a good thing I wasn’t here when he was.” She was about to say something when Boba spotted Fennec and Djarin. He interrupted her before she could speak, in no mood to relay the story of how he and Luke Skywalker knew each other. “They’re here.”</p>
<p class="p1">He stayed where he was, watching as the two approached, his eyes immediately noticing the dark metal hilt of a lightsaber swinging from Djarin’s belt as he ascended the ramp. That must be the Darksaber he’d been hearing so much about. He nodded at the man as he passed, and the gesture was returned. “I take it the other two are staying behind?”</p>
<p class="p1">“They are,” Djarin answered, staring at the Moff for a moment before turning his attention to Boba as he closed the door of the ship.</p>
<p class="p1">“Well then,” Boba went to the ladder that led into the cockpit and began to climb. “Let’s get out of here.” He heard them all moving to get strapped into their seats behind him.</p>
<p class="p1">Then, softly, he heard Cara’s voice. “Din, I-”</p>
<p class="p1">“Djarin,” Boba called over his shoulder. “I could use your help up here.”</p>
<p class="p1">He didn’t wait for a reply, and the man didn’t give one, only leaned his jetpack and spear against the ship’s interior wall and climbed up into the cockpit after Boba. The two situated themselves in the pilot’s and co-pilot’s chairs in silence, Djarin looking decidedly uncomfortable as he reached for something at his hip, Boba’s fingers moving swiftly over the buttons and levers that ignited the thrusters, sending them moving swiftly back out into open space. He punched in the coordinates for Nevarro and maneuvered them into position along the hyperspace lane. “Jumping…now,” he said across the internal comms, letting the passengers below know that they were about to enter hyperspace.</p>
<p class="p1">A moment later the stars disappeared, replaced by streaks of every color of blue imaginable. Boba never got tired of hyperspace, and never would. It always comforted him, bringing back memories of when he and his father would go on long trips, Jango taking the opportunity to teach him all about the <em>Slave 1</em> and about bounty hunting while the stars and systems of the galaxy streaked past their viewport.</p>
<p class="p1">“Dank farrick,” Djarin hissed, bringing Boba back to himself. He turned to see what the problem was, watching as the other Mandalorian slowly produced a small ball and held it in his hand tenderly. It looked like it had seen better days, parts of it coated with scorch marks.</p>
<p class="p1">“Djarin?” Boba said gently, an unspoken question in the man’s name.</p>
<p class="p1">He didn’t look at him as he continued to stare at the ball, his breathing becoming heavier, uneven, almost. “I…I didn’t…<em>dank farrik</em>, I didn’t give the kid the ball.” He gripped the little gadget tightly, almost like he was afraid he would lose it, his breathing sounding worse. It was coming in short bursts, his hands starting to shake. “I didn’t…”</p>
<p class="p1"><em>Kriff</em>, Boba thought. He knew what this was. He’d experienced the same thing when he was a child, after his father had died. Boba took off his helmet, setting it down in his chair as he got up and knelt next to Djarin, the man still not paying attention to anything other than the trinket in his hand. He put a hand on his arm, that shiny helmet of his snapping toward him immediately. “Breathe,” he said lowly, gently.</p>
<p class="p1">“There was too much happening…and then the Jedi…” His breathing got faster. “How could I forget to give him this?” His hands really were shaking now, his right hand almost fisted around the object.</p>
<p class="p1">“Djarin,” Boba said a little louder, his voice firm but still gentle. The visor was still pointed in his direction, but he had a feeling the man beneath was looking through him rather than at him. He squeezed the man’s arm, trying to get him to focus on him. “Breathe,” he said again, the word a command, not a suggestion.</p>
<p class="p1">“I…I can’t,” Djarin sounded almost panicked, his whole body trembling.</p>
<p class="p1">“Yes, you can,” Boba assured him. “In and out, just like always.” He gestured to himself as he let go of the man’s arm, leaning back a bit so he could see what Boba was doing. “Here, like this: in…” He breathed in deeply, holding it for a few moments before letting it out. “And out…” He did it a few more times, hoping Djarin would focus on him and mirror his actions. He got through the exercise twice before his breathing worsened again.</p>
<p class="p1">“I can’t,” he said brokenly.</p>
<p class="p1">“It’s okay,” Boba assured him, squeezing his arm again. “You’ll be able to breath better if you take the helmet off. Just continue to do what we just did. I’ll leave.” He stood to go, getting halfway past the co-pilot’s seat before a shaking hand reached out and grabbed his arm in a death grip.</p>
<p class="p1">“No,” Djarin’s voice was trembling. “Please…don’t leave.”</p>
<p class="p1">He immediately sank back into a crouch next to the man’s side and nodded.</p>
<p class="p1">Djarin held out his trembling hand, silently asking him to take the trinket lying on the rough black fabric of his glove. Boba did, holding it almost reverently, knowing how much the small object clearly meant to him. With shaking arms, the man gripped the edges of his helmet, lifting it slowly from his head and setting it on the floor next to him, his dark hair messy and unkempt from being under the helmet. Brown eyes skittered to Boba’s own before quickly flitting away to land on the ball in Boba’s outstretched hand. He took it back gently, almost cradling it in the palm of his hand.</p>
<p class="p1">“Djarin,” Boba said gently, those brown eyes coming back to his immediately. “You need to breathe.” He nodded, trying the exercise he’d been doing with Boba earlier, but it still wasn’t working. Time for a different approach. “Focus on my voice,” he said. “Only my voice, nothing else.” Djarin’s eyes flitted back to his, this time staying put as he did as Boba had asked, focusing only on him. “Now, come on, in and out. In…and out.” After a tense minute, it finally started to work. His breathing began to even out, the trembling in his limbs lessening slightly. “There you go,” Boba said soothingly, squeezing the man’s arm again.</p>
<p class="p1">Another minute passed in silence, until Djarin finally broke the quiet, his eyes slowly leaving Boba’s to stare at the object in his palm. “How did you know that would help?”</p>
<p class="p1">Boba smiled, no humor in the movement. “The same thing used to happen to me when I was a child, after my father was killed. I had to learn to manage it somehow.”</p>
<p class="p1">He was silent for a few moments. “Thank you,” the voice was broken, almost a whisper. If the cockpit hadn’t already been so quiet, Boba wasn’t sure he would have been able to hear it.</p>
<p class="p1">Boba nodded, then gestured to the ball in Djarin’s hand gently. “Why don’t you tell me about that?”</p>
<p class="p1">The other Mandalorian stared at it for a while before answering. “It’s part of my ship.” His eyes squeezed shut, pain crossing his features. “Was…part of my ship.” He let out a breath, looking back at his hand. “It was part of my console in the cockpit. The kid…he’s obsessed with it. Always has been. I meant to give it to him…when I got him back.” Djarin breathed deeply then, trying to control his emotions.</p>
<p class="p1">“You don’t have to do that,” Boba said, his tone low and gentle. When the man looked to him questioningly, he gestured to his face. “Hide your emotions, that is. Don’t bury them, Djarin. Trust me. They get all…jumbled, keeping them in like that. Best to deal with them head on.” He stood, letting go of his arm for the first time in several minutes. “We’ve got a bit to go in order to get back to Nevarro.” Boba stooped, picking up his helmet and turning back to Djarin with a gentle, sad smile. “I’m going to see how our guest is doing in the hold. Could be gone for a bit.” He took a step, then stopped, dropping his voice a bit lower. “If it happens again, and you can’t control it,” he lifted his helmet slightly, “our helmets have internal comm units for a reason.”</p>
<p class="p1">Djarin took in a shaky breath and tried to speak, but couldn’t get past the lump in his throat at first. Then, quietly, “Thank you, Fett.”</p>
<p class="p1">He only squeezed the man’s shoulder before putting his helmet back on and descending the ladder, sealing the hatch above him as he did. He didn’t want anyone disturbing Djarin, or being able to hear him, especially Gideon. The Imperial had no right to take everything from him and then witness the aftermath. If Boba had his way, he’d just shoot the Moff here and now, but he stayed his hand for one reason: Djarin. The reward money the New Republic would hand over in exchange for the unharmed Moff should be more than enough to get Djarin a new ship, maybe even enough to outfit it, too.</p>
<p class="p1">He reached the floor of the cargo hold, turning to find all eyes on him.</p>
<p class="p1">Cara looked worried. “Is he okay?” she asked softly, almost as if she were afraid to ask. Or afraid to know the answer.</p>
<p class="p1">“He will be,” he replied, just as softly.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">~~~</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">Boba stayed in the cargo hold as long as possible, doing his best not to acknowledge the Moff’s presence and making light conversation with Fennec and Cara. Light conversation had never really been his thing, though, so when they were five minutes out from Nevarro, he went back up to the cockpit to check on Djarin. What he found didn’t surprise him.</p>
<p class="p1">The man was asleep, the small object still held loosely in his upturned palm, helmet at his feet. Boba settled into his seat as quietly as possible, taking his own helmet off and setting it near his feet as well. He thought about waking the man, but decided to let the ship do it for him. He knew he would rather wake to a ship’s alarm than a hand on his shoulder. He and Djarin were cut from the same cloth, and after years of bounty hunting and acquiring all the skills and trust issues that came with the profession, Boba didn’t trust the man not to knife him before he realized it was a friend and not an enemy waking him. Wouldn’t exactly blame the man, though. Boba would do the same, especially if he’d just been through everything Djarin had been through.</p>
<p class="p1">Sure enough, a few minutes later an alarm sounded throughout the ship, alerting them to their imminent drop out of hyperspace, and Djarin was awake in seconds, his eyes wild before recognizing his surroundings and settling. He looked to Boba as he guided the <em>Slave 1</em> into the upper atmosphere of Nevarro. “How long was I out?” he asked quietly, slipping the ball back into a pouch on his belt carefully before reaching down to scoop his helmet off the floor.</p>
<p class="p1">“No idea,” Boba said honestly. “I only came back up a few minutes ago.”</p>
<p class="p1">He nodded, keeping his helmet in his lap as the town got closer and closer, the buildings becoming distinct, the people following soon after. Another few moments, and they could both hear the internal mechanisms of the ship maneuvering so that the cargo hold remained stationary as the ship landed softly on the black sands.</p>
<p class="p1">Boba pressed the button that lowered the ramp and opened the doors, knowing Cara and Fennec would already be up and moving with the Moff. He reached down for his helmet, about to slip it on his head when Djarin’s voice stopped him.</p>
<p class="p1">“Fett.”</p>
<p class="p1">He turned to the other bounty hunter, an eyebrow raised, surprised to find that Djarin was looking straight at him.</p>
<p class="p1">“Thank you.” The words were deeply sincere, and Boba only bowed his head slightly. “I don’t think you understand…” his words trailed away for a moment before he found them again. “What you and Fennec have done, helping me get the kid, helping me with Gideon. No one’s ever gone that far out of their way for me. Not since…” He adopted Boba’s move and bowed his own head slightly. “Thank you.”</p>
<p class="p1">“You’re welcome, Djarin.”</p>
<p class="p1">The man nodded, his lips pressed tightly together, as he put the helmet back on and maneuvered his way to the hatch that led to the cargo hold, Boba right behind him, slipping on his helmet as well. They entered the cargo hold to find that the others were already gathered at the top of the ramp, waiting on them. No one said a word as Djarin reattached the jetpack to his back and slipped the spear into place.</p>
<p class="p1">Cara looked to him for approval, and when Djarin nodded she returned the gesture, taking it as a signal to shove Moff Gideon forward roughly. “Get moving,” she growled. The Moff only grinned and descended the ramp, acting more like he was a guest of high honor than a prisoner about to be handed over to the governing powers of the galaxy. Cara and Fennec clasped arms instead of saying goodbye, smiling grimly at each other.</p>
<p class="p1">“I guess this is where we part ways,” Djarin said, his old voice coming through the vocoder in his helmet.</p>
<p class="p1">“I guess it is,” Boba nodded, the two clasping arms and mirroring Cara and Fennec’s earlier gesture.</p>
<p class="p1">“What will you do now?” Djarin asked.</p>
<p class="p1">Boba chuckled. “I have some business to attend to on Tatooine. Might be there for a bit while I get it sorted out.” He saw Fennec smirk as she moved away from the ramp and back into the cargo hold. The two had already talked at length about their plans for Tatooine and the person who had taken over Jabba’s palace and underworld dealings.</p>
<p class="p1">“Well, if you need any help…”</p>
<p class="p1">“I know where to find you,” Boba nodded.</p>
<p class="p1">Djarin inclined his head, turning to the ramp and descending to follow after Cara and the Moff. Before he could get too far, Boba called out to him. “And Djarin!” The other Mandalorian stopped and turned toward him. “Keep in touch. If you need anything…” He let the words trail away in their implied meaning just as Djarin had done moments before.</p>
<p class="p1">It elicited a chuckle from the man, even if it was brief. He nodded, “I know where to find you,” he echoed, then turned and caught up with the others, their small group quickly disappearing beyond the gate that led into town and into the crowds.</p>
<p class="p1">Boba retreated back inside his ship, raising the ramp and closing the doors as he did so. Within a few minutes, he and Fennec were rocketing back into the atmosphere of Nevarro and he was punching in the coordinates for Tatooine. As the blue streaks of hyperspace bounced off the visor of his helmet, Boba grinned. Time to go claim what was his.</p>
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